Our Girl Meets Poldark
by onlyteasing
Summary: An AU comedy vision of our two favourite Captains James and Poldark at a training camp for hormonal women. Think Carry On Captain...
1. Welcome to the LLCs Camp

**Hope you like this tongue-in-cheek AU crossover for our two favourite Captains. All the property of the BBC and Tony Grounds etc.**

"T'aint fair, t'aint right, t'aint proper! What is happening? Hey, you, Sir! Yes, you, Sir! Where am I and what is going on?"

"Aah lovely, my new Captain has arrived. We tried that other chappy, Major Ross – you know the one from Banished with the endless supply of dried peas and rancid rice – but unfortunately once he removed his 18th century red coat uniform and let his hair down we had a mass walkout, saying he looked like a ravaged 1970s wrestler or Tarzan Lord of Greystoke, so he was shipped back out to Australia pretty pronto. Now you on the other hand, are a great improvement. I think my platoon are going to enjoy ogling, ahem, I mean working with you, Sir. The name's James, Captain Charles James, and you've been assigned to my Section – the LLCs – short for Ladies who Love Captains. They're all lined up waiting for inspection, Captain, just follow me".

"But wait, Sir! Yes, you Sir! One minute I'm worrying about the price of copper and gobbling noisily at a freshly baked pasty and the next I'm suited and booted in my old King George uniform looking suitably smouldering and sexy, and shipped off here. And don't try telling me this is Truro because I don't believe it – looks more like a town in Wiltshire to me!"

"Indeed, Captain. This is Salisbury, Sir. We're here on covert manoeuvres to train the LLCs and turn them back into normal middle-aged and menopausal wives and mothers. There's been too much shock and awe lately when it comes to lusting after their favourite fictional captains, especially those of us in particularly sexy low-slung uniforms with dashing good looks and youth on our side. Some of the luvvies don't like it; they want to be appreciated for their magnificent acting skills and dramatic presence not the size of their bulges, luscious hair and copious amounts of pure sexiness. It's alright for you, you've got a second series, I've been dangling on a thread for months waiting to see if my manly forearms get another airing, and have been forced to take up some pretty shoddy period dramas in the process, I can tell you. Fortunately, my method acting and vast knowledge of all things drama have kept my head above the parapet, plus of course I'm bloody gorgeous and look good in fur robes despite the script and guinea pig haircut, so it's all hands to the pump to get these ladies back to normal. Hearts and minds, Captain Poldark, hearts and minds, now grab your kohl pencil, furrow your eyebrows and look suitably vulnerable. These ladies don't bite…well, only if you let them get close enough".

"Platoon, SHUN! Line up, line up now ladies, I've brought another victim, I mean candidate, to test your nerve and hopefully stop your unhealthy obsession with my cute neck nape curls and very big watch. This is Captain Poldark from 1780s Cornwall. Now, as you can see, he's slightly more weasely in the face than me, but he is as much of a Rupert as I am, despite being poverty-stricken, and he is a war hero albeit from 235 years ago. I know some of you would like to run your fingers down that manly face scar, but touching at this stage of your training will not help curb your lust in the long run, so keep your hands behind your back at all times. Now, in a moment I will ask Captain Poldark to say something poignant and honest and anybody, and I mean anybody, who swoons or wants to cuddle him up to her ample motherly bosom will be put on a charge, do I make myself clear? Now, Captain Poldark, please say something deep and meaningful to test these ladies' inner core of lust-control. Something like "I want you to be brilliant" or "Come back to me", or "I want you to be the last thing I see" oh, hang on; two of them have just buckled already. Why oh why have I been blessed with such an alluring posh boy voice when all I want to do is be a good thespian? I'll never do Shakespeare at the Old Vic at this rate. Grab their legs will you?"

"But wait, Sir! Yes, you Sir! Where is Doctor Enys? Fetch the brandy wine from my cellar and bring me the extra thick crusted kidney pie. These ladies are malnourished and need their faces stroking lovingly with the back of my hard-work-encrusted hand. I need to gaze at them through hooded brows and apologise to them for shouting, even though they want to be shouted at. I need annoying violin music playing too loudly in the background whilst I stride about forcefully, looking worried and exposed to danger, clutching my forehead with my hard-work-encrusted right hand and frantically waving my neckerchief around in a stressed manner with the left hand. If you do all those things then maybe I can bring these ladies round. Otherwise I'll just have to stand on a clifftop and gaze out to sea until the final credits".

"Get a grip, Captain, we're not in Nampara now. There is no brandy wine or kidney pies I'm afraid, only some Diet Um Bongo and KitKats. And by the looks of the size of their arses, I don't think they're in any way malnourished. No, they are simply overcome by my velvet voice, charm and magnetism as usual, and it's a burden I'm living with every day at this training camp. Just grab the legs and we'll cart them over to the medi tent. I've got a friend in there who'll give them some smelling salts. Brains? Baz Vegas? We need both of you to help lift this one. Right, there we go, just down there on the bed will be fine. Molls? Where are you Molls?"

"Oi! Over 'ere Sunny Jim! What we got 'ere then? Not more swooners. Look at 'em they're out of it, and I might never gonna be able to move this one on my own, she's huge!".

"Even though she's limp?"

"Especially coz she's limp, you cockwomble, that'll make her even heavier"

"Might I assist you ma'am? Captain Ross Poldark at your service" (takes deep bow and doffs tricorn hat)

"Oi-oi, stone the crows, I'll go to the foot of our stairs, and where did you sprout from 'andsome? The name's Molls" (offers hand)

"The pleasure is all mine, mistress" (gently raises hand to pouting luscious mouth and presses fulsome lips onto fingers) "is that short for Demollza? Can you make good pastry and ride side-saddle? If so I want to help you undress slowly and then marry you in the last thirty seconds of this episode".

"Nah mate, short for Molly me old China. And I'm already taken by that bellend over there with the low slung combats and sexy headset. I'm sure you'll find suitable wife material in the LLCs though, love a duck. None of 'em are that fussy as long as you've got a pulse and your own hair.

The one dressed all in light blue over there, she loves that colour, well she gets about a bit if you know what I mean, me old cocksparrer, and she'll take you up them apples and pears to places you've never experienced before…like Amsterdam, Edinburgh, Bath and that. She enjoys receiving gifts of a dubious nature, so that dried pilchard headed riding crop you're holding would go down well with her if ever you wanted to make a friend on the inside, so to speak.

The one with the headset, mouthpiece and radio strapped to her thigh is our eyes and ears on the outside world. She's ice cool, calm and collected in these hormone-addled times. If ever we need to know if another series is in the offing she's the first to twatter, face-up or goggle it if you get my drift," (taps nose knowingly). "We all rely on Ice to keep up the adoration when sightings are running low and decent fictional heroes with great abs and a full head of hair are getting thin on the ground.

That one there, Orphan, she's a dab hand at disguises and likes to dress up as inanimate objects so unsuspecting men, in particular Captains and members of the Homeland CIA, will sit and nestle or generally rub themselves against her. She likes to hone her needlework skills picked up from some bloke codenamed "Sewing Bee" who she keeps locked in her shed awaiting the call to "turn" her into a lichen covered rock or G Plan Sofa. All I'd say in warning about her is don't ever let her egg-wash your pasty or handle your pilchards. Two words – 'Audible Crack' – so be very careful if ever you take a rest on a convenient boulder, lumpy chair or settee when you're out idly scything or swimming naked. Working with this platoon I've had my share of seeing plenty of Audible Crack when they're released on some R&amp;R, and it ain't pleasant. Let's just say we'll never see George Clooney or Brad Pitt walking in a straight line again since that last lot of leave in Las Vegas.

That one there is a biscuit lover and she goes around measuring all day with her very soft tape measure. She particularly enjoys it when Captain James requires new combat trousers as she can employ her intricate knowledge of his inside leg measurements. Dunno why, but she always insists on re-measuring him whilst laying down naked and coquettishly waving her legs around, noting whether he dresses to the left or right, even though she knows the details from the previous 15 times she's measured him.

And watch out for that Scottish one there – she's known as the Mistress of QS and I don't mean she likes to eat toffee pennies neither, know what I mean? She's got a handbook of night-time manoeuvres that'll ensure your breeches will never quite fit properly again without a shoehorn. She's currently on the Uniform Committee for changing any handsome Captain's combat trousers for a kilt, and we all know why. She says it's all about scaring off the enemy, but we all know it's so she's got ease of access to the Captain's revolver.

And those two in scout leader uniforms, they note everything Captain James says down and use it on the unsuspecting kiddies in their weekend camps. They're always shouting "stay focussed, stay alert, stay alive" whilst forcing the kids to run 5km while they drink coffee. Then, when the poor mites are flagging, they yell "put some bloody effort in". The poor kids are only 6! Mind you, anyone who supports Wycombe Wanderers rather than the Hammers has to boss someone around I s'pose. The one dressed in the metallic onesie is called Nickel and I hear she's been having several staff meetings with Captain James in her newly-cleaned-and-decorated shed at the back of the compound. Dunno why, but he always comes out of those meetings looking a bit dishevelled and that, but it don't stop 'em having yet another staff meeting the day after.

The one called Cherry looks after the Captain's swivel chair in his barracks. She likes to keep it well oiled and the leather supple she says, so the Captain's nice and comfy. Bless her for her thoughtfulness.

And that one who likes Everybody to Dance does a great job persuading people with zero ability to try and write funny stories so I'd keep an eye on her.

And this one 'ere on the bed, she's a biggun alright, with quite a lot of facial hair too. Come to think of it, there's quite a lot on her body too and I don't think it's quite normal to have hooves instead of feet is it? I know I'm a medic an' that, but I think humans are only supposed to have two legs aren't they? Oh Molls, you numpty, it's an 'orse not a woman, but wait, Captain Poldark what's the matter? You've come over all sexily distant again. Do you mind not rubbing her withers like that, it might make her swoon again. No, no, no Captain, you can't mount her in here, t'aint right, t'aint proper and t'aint fittin' at this stage of the episode. If you want to be doing that you need to be on Sky Atlantic at 10pm. At least wait until you can ride her openly on Salisbury Plain without the others watching! Now don't go angrily throwing your extra billowy lace-lined shirt on the floor like that, whatever will the ladies…OMG look at them onions! If I wasn't already in love with the sexiest Captain on TV you'd sure come a close second Mr Ross. Please stop tensing those lovely liney type muscles that lead down to your pelvic area will you or I'll be joining this silly mare on your casting couch. Where did I put that can of shaken diet coke? Would you mind opening it for me?"

"Put the poor man down Molls! Come now Captain Poldark, it's time to get back to inspect the platoon before they all lose interest and move onto the new series of Strike Back".

"Platoon, SHUN! Ok you Dorises, the stags are back and we're going to test your levels of self-control to the max today. If we wink at you, I want no reaction. If we stand arms crossed, legs akimbo, staring intently at your chests, I want no reaction. If we choose to stand behind you and unbutton your uniform from the back and slip our hands round the front of your thermal vest, I want no reaction. If we tower above you and hold your face in our hands and rub our thumbs over your cheeks to dry your tears, I want no reaction. If we choose to take a quick topless dip in the paddling pool whilst showing off our perfectly honed abs, I want no reaction. If we decide to scythe the whole of the top field topless whilst swigging cider from china bottles slung over our muscular shoulders, I want no reaction. Get it? Think husbands, think marriages spanning decades, think moody teenagers, think piles of washing, think Tena lady, water infections, failing eyesight, breasts heading south, being responsible for elderly parents, think ANYTHING but the gorgeous man-fest going on in front of your very eyes, and then you will be fully trained in the art of being a normal, invisible, worthless and boring middle aged menopausal woman once more.

Any questions? Good! Now, Captain Poldark and I will start with a fitness workout at the outdoor gym. You may all line up and make notes if you have to, whilst pretending to get some tea and a bacon butty, but I don't want to see any sneaky peeking nor do I want anyone volunteering to give us a back rub or any other kind of massage below the waist afterwards. Dismissed!"

**This is my first attempt at publishing fanfic on here. Thank you to all the lovely ladies on MumsNet for giving me more than 15000 comments to use/twist/manipulate for the sake of this story.**


	2. Going incognito on Salisbury Plain

**Thank you to everyone who has kindly reviewed this stuff and nonsense and to the lovely MN ladies for their encouragement and sophisticated silliness. They are the talented ones in this lunacy, all I do is remember and copy down what they say. Hope you enjoy this training mission on Salisbury Plain...**

"Can I have your attention PLEASE? Ladies! Will you please put your tongues back in your mouths and look at my face, not my low slung trousers. I'm sorry they've shrunk in the wash and have become extra clingy in all the right places. Who was on washing duty this week? Was it you madam, yes you, the one eating the ToffeeCrisp in a slow seductive manner. Must you lick the chocolate off like that whilst leering at Captain Poldark? I told you no higher than a 40 degree wash but it seems to have fallen on deaf ears. Now I'm permanently in a state of wedgie-ness plus my sleeves are too short so I have to roll them up to reveal my manly strong forearms and very big watch…no, no I don't need a volunteer to help unplug, thank you Tinkerbell, you little pixie minx. It's so demeaning being an object of desire when all I want is to be taken seriously as an actor. How will I ever break America if all I am is a sex symbol to the middle-aged-and-should-know-better brigade?

"T'aint fair, t'aint right, t'aint proper, that's for sure henceforth, Captain James. When I was told to remove my shirt in episode two I said to the producer Hey, you, Sir! Yes, you, Sir! Is it really necessary in light of the serious nature of the script and credibility of the whole important political undercurrent of the production? When Mistress Horsfield reassured me that yes, indeed, if I wanted to be an overnight sensation and demand megabucks for series two then the top had to come off, I was forthwith relieved I'd spent six months in the gym just in case I was called upon to give the ladies in TV land a treat. And here I am – bit part to very big part in the space of a naked swim and shirtless scything scene."

"Well it's a cross we both have to bear, Captain. But anyway, on to today's task. Today, ladies, we are venturing out onto Salisbury Plain to practice being out in the community and appearing totally normal, without a single thought of what we'd like to do to the lovely young squaddie sitting next to us on the bus minding his own business. We will be going in disguise, of course, in case the Teaching Taliban recognises us at the school gates when we're back on Civvy Street. Is everybody ready? Ok then, I'll just stand here in my headset as you walk past, then I'll do a sexy nod of my head to say get in the truck or I'll ravish you right here and now in front of everyone as a thank you for bringing me my coffee pods. You must look at me blankly but inside you are secretly beseeching me to rip your clothes off. Everyone clear on that? Ok, let's get moving!" (twirls finger in the air)

"Oh for goodness sake, ladies, all it means is 'let's get moving; move out; mobilise' – we all do it in the Army you know. How on earth is circling my lovely long tapering index finger next to my ear whilst being all masterful and commanding in any way alluring and sexy? Oh dear, two weeks into training and even my finger twirl is still reducing you to dribbling wrecks. This is going to be harder than I thought. No, no Mrs Biscuit I didn't mean you might have to re-measure my inside leg now, I meant the task of training you ladies is going to be very difficult. Ok, ok you can all go and have a cold shower then straight back to the truck for moving out to the Plain".

Ogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogo

"Right are we all here? Ok then let's begin. Now is the appropriate moment. Foliage and general greenery disguises at the ready. Ok then, put on your appropriate, yes ok I'll say it again - appropriate - disguises ready for inspection. Lovely! Nice to see your bushes are suitably trimmed and ship-shape just in case the Teaching Taliban is out rambling.

No, no, no Mrs Orphan, what are you doing? No you can't come as a puddle of quicksand by laying down wearing that hideous diarrhoea coloured suede jacket over your head. Where on earth did you get it, it's the colour of poo! What do you mean out of my closet? You were hiding in my closet that night Molly popped round at midnight to tend my blisters? What, the whole three hours? Yes I appreciate there were some very strange noises during that time but Molly was struggling to get my socks off and I had to help her to squeeze out the Savlon. I can assure you, Mrs Orphan, I most certainly am not being f**ing economical with the truth, I do only wear designer clothes. That poo jacket was an impulse buy whilst out with Molly's Nan in East Ham market and I simply couldn't find the appropriate (oops there I go again with my posh boy accent) moment to tell you. Yes I know there's a collarless shirt in there that's from a Primark Sale circa1982 and, yes, some of us do enjoy wearing beanie hats when we're indoors, but I'm telling you my Agents are already working very hard to get me a suitable Stylist, despite only being open one day a week and never answering their phones. Unfortunately Gok is booked up until 2017 so I'm on my own till then. No you most certainly can't use my favourite Aran cardigan with knitted buttons to blend in with the Salisbury recycling landfill site landscape. I don't care if the buttons would look good as sheep droppings, it's my favourite, now get up and take my lovely brown jacket off".

"Captain Poldark what are you doing? No you don't need to spread-eagle yourself over the quicksand to distribute your weight – it's Mrs Orphan you cockwomble! Mrs Orphan, now is not an appropriate – whoops there I go again – moment to offer Captain Poldark a sample of your succulent syllabubs. Yes I appreciate that his face is there anyway, but we're trying to pull him off not thrust him deeper! Fetch that big horse Captain Poldark insists on riding senseless across the hills. Is she here? Ah there she is, see if she can pull him out."

"There, that's it, up you get. Erm, Captain Poldark, the horse is now nibbling your nose-bag, please tell her she only gets her oats once a day, not whenever the mood takes her. Now, why on earth are you wearing your tin hat with candle, Captain?"

"The good ladies told me I was going down into dark, deep and damp caves today, Sir, and I wanted to be prepared. They said I would be mining for hidden treasures and would need suitable protection for my very big head. This is the only kind of health and safety equipment to hand in 1780."

"Oh the naiveté of the 18th century…you're not going caving, Captain. It's a euphemism".

"If I knew what one of those was, Sir, I'd let you know. But in the meantime, whilst you're inspecting the shrub like disguises of the various ladies, Tinkerbell said she'd show me some photos of her African Bush whilst we griddle my pilchards in the open air. So farewell, Captain James, come Tinkerbell, we must go!"

"Ok Poldark, off you ride across the Plain leaving the rest of us to follow the script. Ok then ladies, line up ready for inspection, I think it's going to be a very long day…


	3. Rebellion at the Agency

**Thank you for all the kind reviews. Special thanks to my hero SPOfficer, whose whacky adventures and fictional insanity on the CJ Collective continues to inspire me to be just as silly. Big thanks to the MN gang for providing endless topics to fantasise and write about. **

**Oh dear, the LLCs have landed themselves in trouble trying to help their favourite Captain to secure a starring role...**

"Atten-SHUN! Ok ladies are we all safely back on the bus? No, Mrs Orphan, I've seen through your disguise as a brown and orange stripy velour coach seat, so Captain Poldark and I will certainly not be sitting together on your plump cushions this morning. Kindly remove my favourite party shirt and go sit at the back of the coach with Lady Lola. There is absolutely no need for her to be laid out flat along all five seats waiting for a full kit inspection, and it is totally unnecessary for her legs to be that wide apart. And tell her I really don't need to see for myself as I'm already fully aware that she is a good commando from her antics yesterday. What do you mean, not _that_ kind of commando? Oh alright then, I suppose I can take a quick peek once I've freed my legs. Captain Poldark, can you address the platoon whilst I try to extract Mrs Nipper and Sister Wajeb from clinging onto my low slung and snugly fitting combats? Now ladies, I know full well you're very romantic girls, so there really is no need to have such a tight gripping pincer hold round each thigh – I was much happier with the cuddling and slow, gentle build-up bobbing around on my yacht, sitting on walls kissing tips of noses, happily playing lego with your toddlers or giving you choir lessons…have you been taking advice from The Scottish QS Queen? No, I don't think you should do any of those things she describes, at least not until after midnight when you can practice your research in my cabin…now Lady Lola, you can do _what_ with ping pong balls and Captain Poldark's pasty crusts? " (disappears up the back of the coach, dragging flailing female legs)

"Good morrow fine ladies of the LLCs! I trust you slept well in the cells despite the fever and rancid Cornish conditions? Luckily for you Doctor Enys, good Captain James and I were on our way back from the Red Lion, attending a copper mine shareholders meeting and shuffling papers importantly, otherwise you could've succumbed to Putrid Throat or worse still, Prudey's overcooked stargazy pie. Thank mercy we hoodwinked the guards to rescue you forthwith, or we would've been seductively taking our tops off to bury you all on the beach in the dark, where only our rippling biceps and sweat-streaked and downright gloriously grubby muscular torsos could be seen under the moonlight. My fault really for only packing a trowel to dig six feet in the sand, but all would've looked good on Sky+ slow motion and meant a few more radio interviews for me, hah-hah!."

"T'aint right, t'aint fair and t'aint proper that you _all_ fainted and had to be carried out by being draped over us in a Firemans Lift style. My horse was not best pleased either, having you lot aboard side-saddle rather than my manly thighs and straining breeches pressing into her. Yes I'm hardly surprised she threw you over the hedge, Mistress Reeds, as I think she had spotted what you were doing with your hands when I lifted you up over my shoulder, and wanted to prove to you that my buttocks are private property, made only for riding and thrusting against equine beauties."

"Thank you Captain Poldark, stand down for now. Ok, ok pipe down you Dorises. Thankfully, Lady Lola, Mrs Nipper and Sister Wajeb settled down after an audible snack… I mean edible crack…no, let's just say a bite to eat shall we? Just something and nothing I produced from my very big rucksack but they all seemed satisfied and happy enough to finally put their clothes back on and pay attention…anyway, where did you get to Captain Poldark? Ah yes, the rescue."

"What on earth were you all thinking? It certainly is not possible to storm my Agency in the middle of the day and handcuff yourselves naked to the railings until they get me another decent UK starring role that isn't up against Downton on a Sunday night. You should know by now that for a start my Agents are only open one morning a week, on a Wednesday after Lorraine and before Loose Women, and they're far too busy securing roles for Tom Ellis and Matthew McNulty to worry about me."

"Madam Blue, was it really necessary to remove all your clothes and write "We Want to See Captain James' Bigger Parts" in lipstick across your chest? And you, Mrs Biscuit, how can you justify walking round in Captain Poldark's sexy white lacy billowing shirt and without your surgical stockings, and almost revealing what you had for breakfast, dishing out tea and digestives to the Bomb Squad and any other uniformed officers you could entice. And as for Ice Maiden bringing her bunk beds "just in case we have to stay the night", how will I ever explain bringing the whole of Golden Square to a standstill with such a blockage of bedding? I'm shocked and awed by such blatant audacity, not to mention downright disappointed that Detour may _still_ not be commissioned in the US despite your loyal uprising."

"How Captain Poldark, Doctor Enys and myself managed to extricate you all from the police cells I'm not sure, but I think maybe you have Lady Lola to thank for that. Her luring of the Police Riot Squad to lower their shields whilst she re-enacted certain chapters of the Queen of Scotland's Involved fanfic with any officer over 6 foot 2 and carrying a big truncheon was above and beyond I can tell you. I certainly won't be telling her to put some bloody effort in to getting me better roles, she must be exhausted. No wonder she needed a lay down at the back of the coach - she was fucking awesome."

"Now, let's get back to Salisbury and have a little celebration of your freedom shall we? I've organised something special which I know you'll enjoy. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, Ice Maiden, but let's just say you'll all be getting plenty of practice from Captain Poldark. He has agreed to take his top off – _AGAIN_ – and throw each and every one of you gently down on your mattress whilst smiling sexily and lowering himself on top of you. We just need to get his sexy white lacy billowing shirt back from Mrs Biscuit so you can all borrow it and make sure it reveals every square inch of your legs. Ah, I see…apparently there are a few stubborn stains on the shirt after Golden Square-gate so it's gone to Dame T Crisp in laundry – she said something about Captain Poldark and a damn good soaking so I'm guessing she means the shirt is very soiled."

"What's that, Sir? But wait, Sir! Yes, you Sir! What do you mean my shirt is soiled? It always looks jolly lovely when I'm wearing it, Sir, and perfectly white considering there was no Bold 2-in-1 during the 18th century. I must have it back forthwith otherwise my gloriously coiffed chest hair will not be able to slightly dazzle the ladies in TV land by its poking out hairiness and wispy I-want-to-stroke-it-lovingly-now gorgeousness. Fetch it back to me or I will stride around Nampara looking stressed and downright beautifully vulnerable, waving my neckerchief forlornly and bending down too sexily in front of the open log fire, scowling and slightly singeing my too tight breeches!"

"Indeed, Captain, I don't think the ladies would like to see any of that kind of angst over a simple frilly shirt as they all enjoy good happy endings. No I'm sure they haven't hidden it on purpose so you have to continue striding around the place topless – whatever do you take them for? I can assure you we are training them to be fine, upstanding, professional middle aged, normal women who will enjoy good drama and the credibility of fine acting. Yes of course they will, eventually, be oblivious to tongue-swipes, lip biting and wide-legged stances with arms folded . Now, come and sit next to me on this rather comfortable, well-padded tan corduroy seat at the front of the coach – it reminds me of my lucky audition suit in my closet back at base – now, let's enjoy the long ride home. For some reason we seem to be bumping up and down a lot more than the rest of the coach…"

**Onwards and upwards next to the Celebration Party. Karaoke anyone?!**


	4. The Welcome Back Concert

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews. With apologies to Sir Elton John and the Proclaimers for mucking up their wonderful lyrics. All rights etc to these songs of course belong to them, their composers and writers etc. I hope they forgive me. **NB** If you are under 18 or easily offended please do not read this chapter as some of the writing is very risque and double-entendre-riddled and I wouldn't want to cause offence. Apologies for some of the spacing in this chapter, for some reason I can't get the songs to not be double-spaced in parts, oops. **

**As the LLCs training is coming to an end, it's time to enjoy their Welcome Back Concert organised by their lovely, considerate Captain James who really is our Number 1 guy...**

I do pluck a fair rose for my love  
I do pluck a red rose blowing  
Love's in my heart, a-trying so to prove  
What your heart's knowing.

I do pluck a finger on a thorn  
I do pluck a finger bleeding  
Red is my heart, all wounded and forlorn  
And your heart needing.

I do hold a finger to my tongue  
I do hold a finger waiting  
My heart is sore, until it joins in song  
Wi' your heart mating

"Aahh thank you Captain Poldark for that lovely a cappella practice rendition of your favourite Cornish folk song and I'm sorry it was somewhat ruined by Mistress Reeds on the bongos and Mrs Kezia on the tuba. I'll make sure they are otherwise occupied when it comes to the proper performance tonight. I know you would've enjoyed Miss Elizabeth Cushionlips of Trenwith accompanying you on the harp, but she's obviously unable to play now with four broken fingers."

"What's that you say, Sir? Yes you, Sir! Did you say my horse is very cross with me and Miss Elizabeth finally needs me to help her off now with her dress without a care? At last! I've been waiting a whole series to do that"

"No Captain Poldark, it's this dodgy microphone – the sound keeps disappearing intermittently. I said your horse is bucking furiously because she doesn't like the way you are making cow eyes at Miss Elizabeth Cushionlips and she will personally make a mess of her perfect Icelandic features if she so much as twizzles your perfect hair! Unfortunately, when she reared up she landed on her very ample backside straight on top of Miss Elizabeth, thus causing the breakage of fingers. She has humbly apologised, however, for being such a jealous old nag, so I think you need to go and give her a rub down and her daily portion of oats followed by a soothing bareback ride out across the Moors in your white lacy billowing shirt to curb that red-maned jealousy. Perhaps then the silly mare will calm down and we can get on with this wonderful Welcome Home Concert I've organised."

"Ok ladies, while Captain Poldark is giving his horse a good going over you can finish building the stage for our sing-song. I don't quite know why you've made it so high up in the air and the wooden slatted planks of the stage have too big a gap between them, but being a man I will tut-tut patronisingly at your silly girly attempts at DIY and say nothing to criticise, only smirk to myself at your total ineptitude. It's just that when Captain Poldark and I are on stage, the audience will practically be underneath us rather than in front of us, and I think those gaps in the floorboards will mean we will have to stand with our legs a bit further apart than normal, that's all. But you carry on and finish now whilst I raise my eyes to the sky thinking these women really have no idea do they?"

_Four hours later, rapturous applause and wolf whistles as Captain James mounts the stage…_

"Thank you, thank you ladies for all the adulation. It's so ..ice to see so many of you wearing your tight black vests with ..ombats so I can ..ppily observe the hard ..ips of the icebergs that lie und..neath. Yes, Mrs Orphan, I realise your voluptuous icebergs could accommodate my titanic...oops sorry about ..at, the micro…one power ..eeps disapp…ring, let me just tug on this cord, hah! there we go, can you hear me now? Ok then, let's get this …rty ….arted!"

"Let's welcome that handsome, scar-faced war veteran of 1780 on stage - ..aptain ..oldark!

_More rapturous applause and wolf whistles as Captain Poldark mounts the stage…_

"Good morrow, Sal….bury!"

_(doffs tricorn hat and bows low, revealing copious amounts of chest hair spilling out of white, lacy billowing shirt, thus causing louder cat-calling and raucous screams of lust) _

"Thank you ladies, thank you. Now first of all I'd just like to ..ank the Queen of Scotland and Madam Blue for suggesting our stage outfits of full Scottish regalia with Black Watch kilts. And heartfelt ..anks to Mrs Biscuit and Mrs Orphan for their measuring skills and patience whilst ..ainstakingly taking our inside leg measure…ts and generally ….ing us off before a good f….ing. Captain Poldark and I thoroughly enjoyed it and are …nking of letting you do it on a daily ..sis"

"And before you ask, yes we are wearing our kilts in the traditional Scottish way" _(loud cheers)_

"And in case you're not sure, I can assure you it's not our mics that are being swung in a raunchily sexy way – it's the completely unforeseen result of an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction of these very short kilts!" _(total raucous mayhem and storming of underneath the stage to gaze up through the purposefully widened slats)_

"Ok, then, ..ere we go. With Mrs Paintedcherries on keys, let's get this ..ow on the ..oad with my favourite Elton John ..mber! _(Microphones are now swung in beat with the other dangly bits)_

Don't go taking my parts  
But I'm now bigger than you  
I'm the beefcake on a Sunday night  
The Beeb say I'm beefier too

Don't go taking my parts  
You'll have to wait before me  
When the US finally knocks on my door  
I've already done Series 3

Ooh-hoo! Nobody knows me

My gorgeous face

Sank without trace

Ooh-hoo! Nobody knows me (nobody knows)

Right from the start

They all loved Poldark

Oh-ho! Bare-chested Poldark

So don't go taking my parts

I won't go taking your parts

And nobody told me  
`Cause nobody showed you  
And now it's up to us mate  
I think we should scythe through it

So don't under-estimate me  
You're the loss to my gain  
Oh you set their pulses alight  
And all you achieved was Reign

Ooh-hoo! Nobody knows me

My gorgeous face

Sank without trace

Ooh-hoo! Nobody knows me (nobody knows)

Right from the start

They all loved Poldark

Oh-ho! Tight breeches Poldark

So don't go taking my parts

I won't go taking your parts

Don't go taking my

Don't go taking my

Don't go taking my parts

_(Music fades to boisterous cheering and bouncing icebergs)_

"And now ..adies, it's time for some music of your own. Where is Maid Lovesdancing, is she here? She's ..irst on my ..ist. Ah! Here she is, up you come now, don't be shy. What are you going to ..ing for us? Your own rendition of Captain Poldark's favourite ..ornish folk ..ong eh? Well I won't let Mistress Reeds and Mrs Kezia ruin it this ..ime. Off you go."

I do ..uck my Captain every day  
I do ..uck him, without ga….ing  
Love's in my heart, coz he's so f….ing fit  
We can't stop sh…..ing.

I do hold his ….. to my tongue  
I do hold it there pulsa...ing  
My …. is sore, until it joins in song  
We so enjoy mating

_(Complete silence, then rapturous applause from the LLCs whilst wishing they'd thought of the lyrics themselves; all look lovingly and longingly at their Captains blushing faces)_

"Well that was, erm, very heartfelt, earnest and innocently sincere Maid Lovesdancing. Not quite how my lovely Demelza sang it, but it gave me a particularly similar dazzling proud smile nonetheless, just like in the script."

"Er, yes, thank you Captain Poldark, you can put your tongue back in your mouth now and Maid Lovesdancing I think you need to go and be sick in the closet then go and have a lie down before winning over the posh people with your charm and personality during Christmas dinner."

"Ok ladies, it's time for our finale. Keeping to our Scottish kilted theme, Captain Poldark and I are going to finish with the ever popular Proclaimers. This version of I'm Gonna Be 500 Miles was written by the relatively unknown CJ Collective, but I'm sure it will mean as much to you as it does to us. Now get the tune in your heads and sing along. Hit it Paintedcherries!

When I wake up, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be thinking of the Captain of my dreams

When I go out, yeah, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be thinking how much he fuels my lust-filled screams

If I get drunk, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be even braver with my lusty thoughts

And if I'm braver, hey, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be imagining my Captain in just his boxer shorts

Now we have had 16000 threads

And we'll probably do 16000 more yet

Just talking complete nonsense and total crap

About our favourite Captains many assets

When I'm working, yes, I know I'm s'posed to be

I'm s'posed to be the girl pretending she's ahead

And when the boss ain't quite looking my way

I'll be onto Mumsnet and checking out comments on the thread

When I come home (When I come home), oh, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the girl pretending to cook tea

No more housework or staying to idly chat at school

Coz I'm dreaming of my Captain in his paddling pool

Now we have had 16000 threads

And we'll probably do 16000 more or so

Just idly gossiping about Boss Man

And whether Series 2 is good to go

Low slung combats (da-da-dah-dah)

Nice tight bulges (da-da-dah-dah)

Whirling fingers, biting lips and flicking tongues

Manly forearms (da-da-dah-dah)

Nice big watches (da-da-dah-dah)

Sexy headsets and posh boy accents all day long

When I'm lonely, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be on the thread and chatting away on there

And when I'm dreaming, well, I know I'm gonna dream

Of swivelling, staff meetings and gorgeous neck nape hair

When I go out (When I go out), well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be in the Ladies loo keeping up to date

And when I come home (When I come home), yes, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be reading the OG fanfic and staying up late

Gonna be reading those stories waaaaay too late

Now we have had 16000 threads

And we'll probably do 16000 more for sure

Just making wisecrack jokes and planning fake trips

And making up euphemisms that aren't quite pure

Sexy head nods (da-da-dah-dah)

Legs akimbo (da-da-dah-dah)

"I want you to be Brilliant" and a very sexy "Come Back to Me"

Brize Nor-hun (da-da-dah-dah)

Appropriate Moments (da-da-dah-dah)

Shag rugs, audible crack and extremely full cream teas

Cabbage napkin (da-da-dah-dah)

Half a Travel Lodge (da-da-dah-dah)

Gardening gloves and a lean yet muscle toned manly chest

"What have we just learned?" (da-da-dah-dah)

Rosabaya pods (da-da-dah-dah)

Completely sexy hooking thumbs inside that vest

Now we have had 16000 threads

And there's probably 16000 more or so

Just idly reminiscing about those chocolate brown eyes

And how we'd give him a right good go

"Stay focussed" (da-da-dah-dah)

Tight bummed combats (da-da-dah-dah)

"Have you ever been upto Bath at Christmas time?"

Light lip tongue roll (da-da-dah-dah)

Naked wrestling (da-da-dah-dah)

In hospital covered completely in dirty Afghan Grime

Now we have had 16000 threads

And there's probably 16000 more in us

Just passing the time chatting about Boss Man

And trying so hard to contain our l-u-u-u-ust

"Thank you and GOOD NIGHT SALISBURY!"

_Curtain comes down _

"Erm excuse me, Sir! Yes you, Sir! You didn't mention me…."

_Captain Poldark exits stage left looking downcast and sexily vulnerable, curly perm hanging limply over face._

**A/N ****Massive thanks to the MN ladies for a fun-filled 8 months of banter. OF COURSE Captain Poldark is only my second favourite! **


	5. Captain Poldark Goes AWOL

**All rights to Our Girl/Poldark belong to Tony Grounds, Winston Graham and the BBC.**

**Thank you to everyone for your kind reviews, I'm really chuffed you've enjoyed my silly ramblings. Big thanks to my fellow MN inmates, especially Orphan, Ice Dancey and Nickel, who encourage this lunacy to continue, so it's their fault!**

**Anyway back to the story - Oh no! Captain Poldark has taken umbrage that he's not Top Captain following the Welcome Back Concert and the Proclaimers tribute that didn't even mention him once. But the charming and heroic Captain James, along with some particularly handsome reinforcements, is preparing to bring Ross back where he belongs - to be lusted and fawned over by the LLCs once more...**

"Yes, Sir, agreed. Ditto to that, Sir. Will do Major Beck, above and beyond of course, Sir. I'll make sure they put some bloody effort in, Sir, make no mistake. Thank you, Sir. No, honestly, it was nothing, Sir. Really? Well, I don't know what to say to that. Anyway, I've got to go now, Sir. No, you say it. I've already said it many times _(blushes)_. _You _put the phone down first, no, _you_ do it. Good night, Sir. Bye, bye….bye _(whispers)_ bye…bye-bye…_of course I do_…I'm going now I promise…bye, bye-bye, you too…bye" _(smirks to himself as he replaces the phone)._

"Ok, Mrs Orphan, I now have fresh orders from HQ regarding Captain Poldark. Why he took it upon himself to fill that nag's saddlebags to overflowing then ride off across the Plain is anybody's guess. What do you mean he didn't like all the attention I was getting at the Welcome Back Concert? I can't help it if I've got the height and sex appeal of an Adonis whilst he's been dealt the shit end of the stick with a dodgy wig and badly crayoned scar, he should curb his jealousy. He should count his blessings he's got a second, third, fourth and fifth series in the bag whilst I'm scraping around doing bit-parts in cheapskate American historical bodice-rippers with memorable one-liners like "I think you've dropped one". And how many pilots for Fox have there been that never see the light of day? Larkrise to Candleford my big break? Huh! Fast Track to Bloody Unemployment more like! The bloke should count his lucky stars he's got females fainting at his feet despite looking like a ferret. No, no, it's ok Mrs Orphan, I don't need a hug – remember your training – well, alright then just a little one. Just a bit lower, down a bit, ah yes, that feels much better."

_Twenty minutes later…_

"Now, I've got some Special Forces coming in along with the Homeland CIA, so be ready for the chopper at 2300 hours. No, Mrs Orphan, that doesn't mean I'll be visiting your tent at 11 o'clock tonight, it means the helicopter with the special personnel will be arriving later on to help with the search for Captain Poldark. Yes I understand the LLCs are distressed at Captain Poldark's disappearance, especially as he wasn't wearing his sexy white lacy billowing shirt. But you must've realised by now that Captain Poldark rather enjoys exposing his top half at any given opportunity so the fact he's out late at night on Salisbury Plain even without a vest will not bother a man such as he. That manly chest covered in a velvet smattering of dark wavy furry lusciousness is always prepared for the worst so try not to fret that he's going to miss that waxing appointment on Thursday. I'm sure he's fully aware of the consequences of becoming a Burt Reynolds look-a-like. Now, back to your tent to brief the ladies that we are expecting guests. All the training received so far will be needed to restrain themselves, and I know you're all going to be brilliant at keeping your lust levels to a bare minimum for the sake of the Regiment."

_Knock-knock_

"Come in! Aah, Mrs Biscuit I wondered how long it would take you to pay me a visit. What's that you say? Is it the Ginger Ninja coming to the base? Ahaa! Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies Mrs Biscuit. Let's just say we're going to _Strike Back_ to go and get Captain Poldark, and we'll also be taking a couple of knowledgeable CIA insiders – codenamed Rupert-a-Friend and The Sausage – and that's all you need to know. Will you please stop waving that tape measure? No – I really don't need my inside leg measurements taken _again_, Mrs Biscuit, you did it yesterday, and the day before. Now, go and prepare to welcome the back-up forces. Yes, I'm sure they will need all their measurements taken before the fitting of their camo combats, Mrs Biscuit…yes, Mrs Orphan can accompany you when you get to grips with Rupert-a-Friend…no I'm sure he won't have to be pinned down by force…no, Mrs Orphan most certainly won't have to sit on his face whilst you measure…yes I realise The Sausage will need to be totally covered up as he didn't look good naked in that Caracas drug den, and yes, I fully appreciate someone's got to do it as The Sausage is not everyone's cup of ginger tea, but let's just get the welcome over with first shall we, then we'll give the job to Miss Ilove, she always enjoys ginger banter."

_Knock-knock_

"Oh for goodness sake, who is it now? Come in! Aah Lady Icemist, thank you for stopping by. We have an important mission to find Captain Poldark somewhere out on the Plain and I've heard you're the one to ask regarding communications and being up to date with the whereabouts of favourite fictional Captains. Yes, yes I'm over that now. No, no I'm sure it wasn't your fault. Ah, I see, it was the Queen of Scotland loosening the screws was it? Well, all I can say is thank goodness you fell on top of me rather than the hard concrete floor when we were testing out your newly-constructed bunk beds. I did wonder why you insisted I went on the lower bunk, but was it really necessary to douse yourself in coconut oil before launching yourself face-down aboard the top bunk? When you accidentally fell straight through and impaled yourself on my low slung combats, which I'd only just undone to relax a little, it was extremely difficult to get to grips with you to help you off, so I'm sorry about the writhing around and pumping action to get you back upright. Oh, it's very kind of you to say so. No, no, I am indeed proud to be the soldier that can come to order…I mean the soldier I've become…oh Lady Icemist, just make sure the screws are tighter next time eh? No, not longer – _tighter!_ Oh, I give up. Go and fetch your radio and headset, I need you 100% by my side at 2300 hours…no, not in a missionary position, Lady Ice, for a _rescue mission!_ Dismissed!"

_Knock-knock_

"For the love of God, what now? Come in! Aah Madam Nickel is everything ship-shape in the Bergen department? Have you laid out the kitchen equipment and packed all the tents in the back of your hatchback? Good! No, no, I'll take your word for it that two people can squeeze into each sleeping bag if necessary. No, no, it's fine thank you, the Strike Back boys, Rupert-a-Friend, The Sausage and myself will be in our own tent rather than sharing with you and the other LLCs. Well, in that case can you please make sure there are enough sleeping bags to go round then? I don't think it's appropriate that we top-and-tail, no, Madam Nickel. And I can carry my own Bergen, thank you Madam Nickel…yes I can polish my own revolver and make my own breakfast juice thanks. Aah, I see, sorry, I thought you meant orange juice. Actually, I'm a Rosabaya man, myself. Come here, let me write it down on your arm so you can add it to your shopping list before we go. There you go…erm, what's this other stuff written on your arm? Tattoos at your age Madam Nickel? I don't think that's appropriate for a Scout Leader do you? Besides, there's an L in Clock so I'd sue the tattoo artist who misspelt that little poem _(laughs)_. No, it's ok, I don't want to see the other one on your inner thigh, well ok thank you for sharing that. Yes, yes it's marvellous detail you're right, and you really have captured my stern face, but what's that dangling down whilst my legs are akimbo? Really? Hmm, well, your Mother would be proud indeed. And let's hope you don't put any more weight on around the top of your legs or that tattoo will look like Jake the Pegg. Now, off you go and look longingly round the compound before we pack up and go. I'll stand with my headset on over there and nod at you knowingly, and then we'll all be ready to go and search for Captain Poldark."

_Knock-knock_

"Oh Judas, is there no end to this chapter? Who is it? Yes, Paintedcherries, what is it? Aah, you've renovated my swivel chair and adjusted the seat height, well done. Yes, yes, put it over there in the corner. Do I have to? Well, ok, but only for a couple of minutes as I'm supposed to be twiddling my pen and shuffling papers importantly before an important secret comes out. Hang on a minute"…

_Walks over to closet and opens door_

"Mummy Reeds out you come now. No I'm sorry, you can't spend the entire chapter locked in my closet sniffing my spare uniform, especially as you'll get sore knees crouching that low. I don't care if that's where the best aroma is, crawl out now. Paintedcherries has brought me a vital piece of refurbished equipment and we need some privacy to test it out. That's it, off you go, no, you can leave the napkin covered in cabbage in the closet, thank you. And the rigger gloves. Take off the lumberjack shirt please; I need that for the closing credits. Close the door loudly and stalk off now please. I'll pick up my gun and follow you out once I've seen to Paintedcherries..."

_Some hours later…_

"Ok LLCs line up! Now the chopper is due any minute with our undercover search party. I don't know why you've all felt the need to have a full-body Veet then a flannel wash , as I know most of you don't even fancy those personnel flying in. But I realise with figures like yours and being the wrong side of 40, beggars can't be choosers, so stay alert, stay sober and stay awake. Let's go and find Captain Poldark TOGETHER!"

**How will the LLCs cope with yet more handsome totty arriving at Camp? And will they even have time to find Captain Poldark between leering and lusting?**


	6. Operation Bulge

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed or simply just enjoyed reading this silly story. I've been blown away by the positive response so sincere thanks (deep, awkward Demelza curtsey). It's getting more and more difficult to "be funny" so apologies in advance if you don't find it so. Big thanks to my MN partners in crime for all the encouragement.**

**We are entering the final phase of training for our lovely LLCs. The question is, are they fully cured of their hormonal lust for fictional Captains, or will they continue to swoon forever (or at least until Series 2)?**

**We re-join the Platoon awaiting the arrival of the helicopter carrying the handsome reinforcements so they can march onto Salisbury Plain and re-capture, I mean rescue, the luscious Captain Poldark…**

_Sounds of helicopter rotors getting closer…_

"Ok ladies, the chopper is nearly here so step away from the landing area now! Dame Crisp, I said step away from the landing area before you get hurt…what are you doing? Stay where you are now or my face will become very stern indeed and I will have to stand legs akimbo, arms folded, looking extremely sexy in a smouldering, moody kind of way. What do you mean, that's okay by me? Dame Crisp, come back!"

_Captain James launches himself on top of Dame Crisp (who happens to be laying facing upwards) to shield her from the helicopter backdraft._

"Yes I realise I was fucking awesome, Dame Crisp, but did you or did you not hear my order to come back? Now I'm going to lay here on top of you rolling my tongue playfully inside my lip but with a very stern furrowed brow until you give me a straight answer. I mean it, I'm going nowhere until you answer me truthfully. Now, did you hear my order?.…"

_Half an hour later_

"Ok Dame Crisp I think I heard you say you didn't hear my order so we can get up now. Please, Dame Crisp, I'm getting cramp so let's just say you didn't hear my order, okay? Besides, these tight combats are playing havoc with my helmet having my legs spread-eagled like this to cover your voluptuous personage. Please unhook your legs from my right thigh now, Dame Crisp, the danger is over and I believe the chopper is waiting to leave again. I think I heard what sounded like the reinforcements being dragged back to the LLCs tent against their will, but it was awkward to see when my head was being forcibly held face-down in your buxom décolletage. Is it at all possible that you can un-clamp me now so to speak, Dame Crisp? There, that's better; I can breathe again at last. Sadly, my helmet seems to have disappeared now I'm upright, oh no, there it is, still under my arm where I left it thank goodness, and the lovely tassely bits are all still intact and dangling nicely".

_Captain James walks towards the LLCs tent, noticing deep ruts in the dust as though forceful dragging of boots had occurred, then hears shouts and cries for help coming from within. Dame Crisp falls into step and walks alongside, trying to link arms and hold the Captain's helmet. Captain James, ever the professional soldier, is too worried about his men to dwell on such forwardness and absentmindedly allows her to stroke his helmet as they enter the tent…_

"Atten-SHUN! LLCs line up now! What have you done with the reinforcements, I can't see them. Tinkerbell I know it's past your bedtime, but slankets are not army uniform so please change your attire immediately. Now, I realise you've probably had a couple of glasses of rosé, or maybe your usual pint of sherry and some Maltesers, so I will ignore that comment about the reinforcements being a shower of bastards…ok, ok I misheard you, I didn't realise you'd said "a shower or bath, lads?" I thought you were insulting them. I don't care if you can make good drunken bathtime Eurovision artwork with all of them, Tinkerbell, they are not interested in any kind of shower makeover or bathing party. I don't care if the bubbles are working in the Jacuzzi, either, Scottish Queen, the men are here to work not satisfy your prosecco-induced lust. I would also suggest you climb off that washing machine for now, Scottish Queen, and wait until the tent is empty before you hump any more furniture or white goods in a sexually frustrated manner. I simply don't care if the Strike Back boys have promised you an extra spin cycle, we are here to work."

Now, where did Mrs Orphan go? She was admiring my tassely helmet a minute ago, now she's disappeared completely. She's gone where? What's she doing in the kitchens with Rupert-a-Friend? She's helping him to find what? His nuts? Now listen to me, ladies, we are about to embark on a dangerous mission out onto the plains of Wiltshire in search of Captain Poldark, and you simply don't have time to commandeer Rupert's nuts or cheer up The Sausage with a deep-pore bed-bath. Now, focus up! I need all of you 100% by my side or I'll receive nasty reviews saying ya-ya-looby sucks, your stories are poopy-pants ploppy and I'll be extremely upset and have to stand legs akimbo, arms folded and scowling extremely sexily into the distance. Are we clear on that? Only dazzling, positive kind words saying "Yay you're the nuts and we love you" in future, ok? Then I might, just might, say "I want you to be brilliant" in that slow, smouldering, lip-licking, knicker-loosening way, and then we'll all be happy to continue with the writing."

"Ok ladies, gather round now, gather round. I'm sure you've all now met and been introduced to the reinforcements, and while they are all putting their clothes back on I will explain the plan to find Captain Poldark."

_Produces a tightly rolled map from his very big Bergen, to gasps of delight from the LLCs_

"Ok, so…Captain Poldark was last picked up on radar here" _(points a very long finger to map, causing more panting)_ "riding that mare of his extremely hard towards the tree covering here" _(prods finger to another spot, whilst earnestly running other hand through stray neck nape curls, producing groans and heavy breathing all round. The Queen of Scotland returns to the washing machine and flicks on the Speed Spin cycle)._ "Now, we will be dropped by the chopper here and crawl through the undergrowth until we are absolutely plastered in Salisbury Grime, then rendezvous just by the edge of the tree covering. We will wait out there until dawn and I will polish my very big revolver whilst you ladies change your underwear to stay fresh. The reinforcements will come from behind so you must all be prepared for a possibly unexpected thrust of adrenaline. No, no, Mrs Biscuit, I said adrenaline, and no you can't be the one receiving it from both the Strike Back boys - please try and stay focussed on the plan or I will become very stern indeed".

_Captain James stands back up straight from the map table and folds his arms triumphantly_

"Any questions? Erm, please look at my face, ladies. It's unfortunate that I get rather excited when a plan comes together, but no, I won't reveal which side I'm dressing on and I don't appreciate the debate going on whilst I'm still standing here looking rather masterful. Please avert your eyes from my rather sexy low slung belt, it's not very professional. No, Miss iLove, I will not be calling this mission Operation Bulge despite the vote being unanimous. I'm in charge and I decide what we're calling it. Please stop doing that to my helmet, Tinkerbell, and go and tell the Scottish Queen she can climb off the Hotpoint now, the briefing is over. Has anyone seen The Sausage?" _(guffaws of dirty laughter as ogling continues)_ "He's done what? Well I won't allow it! There's no way he's borrowing my Dunelm Mill fleur-de-lys pub curtain cloaks and genuine rat fur-trimmed capes just because he thinks he's Henry VIII. I'll have you know I'm very proud of my dramatic presence as King Antoine of Navarre and they allowed me to keep all the costumes in case there's another series of Reign or a suitable bodice-ripping drama that I can star in, so I don't want them spoiled. You never know when a full length fur coat will come in handy. I've no idea what a "Shag Rug" is, Madam Dancey, but I expect it's another one of your euphemisms so I'm simply not rising to it" _(more tittering as all eyes look downwards and beg to differ)_

"Right ladies, it's time to gather up your Bergens, line up and stare longingly round the camp for one last time. I will stand by the truck to count you in wearing my very sexy headset with wispy curls hanging round the Velcro, and you will be ushered onto the truck by the Strike Back boys, Rupert-a-Friend and The Sausage coming up from behind, as per usual. I don't want any more sniggering or nudging, nor do I need any more help with my helmet, thank you, you three, now stand up and get back in line. Mrs Orphan, I thought I told you not to go to the kitchens…well I've got absolutely no sympathy with you if you're STILL choking on Rupert-a-Friend's nuts, you should simply eat one at a time to prevent the gagging. I don't believe for one minute Rupert-a-Friend insisted you took a full handful, as he's been fully briefed on your ability to cause audible crack just from one solitary nibble, so I'm going to ask the Strike Back boys if they will both pump you soundly with the back of their hands until your throat is cleared. There. Is that better? Oh dear, now look what you've done; the whole platoon has swallowed Rupert-a-Friend's nuts and want the Strike Back boys to pump them in the same wholehearted manner. Here, use my helmet to ease the pressure if you must. I've a feeling preparations for this mission are going to take a little longer than anticipated. Well, ok, just one glass of prosecco for me, Scottish Queen, but no nuts thank you."

**Oh dear, do the LLCs even care for Captain Poldark any more now the reinforcements have made a grand entrance and Captain James seems to be warming to their lustful advances and offers of alcohol? Get ready for Operation Bulge – the Final Mission.**


	7. Operation Bulge - The Rescue Finale

**So…the LLCs are on their final mission to bring back Captain Poldark and hopefully get him to put his sexy white lacy billowing shirt back on (or maybe not). Will the harrowing experience of life out on the open Salisbury Plain be enough to cure the LLCs of their inexplicable hormonal lust for fictional Captains? Do they even want to be cured? We rejoin the Ladies, together with their handsome Captain and accomplices, out on the Plain at the midnight rendezvous point…**

_**(whispering)**_ "Ok ladies, follow in line along this ditch by touching the shoulder in front of you. I said the shoulder, Ms Beekay, if you don't mind. That's where I keep my energy-boosting Mars bar and I don't want it melting. No…that's not my Mars bar either, Ms Beekay, so please put your hand on my shoulder and nowhere else if you'd be so kind. With your height there's absolutely no excuse for putting your hand anywhere near my waistline and inside my beautifully low slung combats. Where is Rupert-a-Friend? He's supposed to be the lookout as he's got the best cheekbones for the job. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him or Mrs Orphan since the chopper dropped us – are they even here?" _**(looks round and down the line of troops)**_ "Mrs Biscuit, you should not be holding hands with Scott and Stonebridge; this is not some kind of a first date, it's a rescue mission, so please put away the picnic hamper, shag rug and Fifty Shades of Grey paperback. I don't care if they promised you a re-enactment of chapter 23 with some extra-large butt-plugs, now's not the time. No, I'm not interested in the 80+ chapters of BDSM Harry Potter or the abnormally erotic Thomas the Tank Engine fanfic downloaded on your Kindle either, Mrs Nipper; there's something weirdly inappropriate about your favourite fictional characters being turned into objects of kinky desire and insatiable lust and I really don't understand it" _**(ruffles hair in an agitated manner as the LLCs swoon and bite their bottom lips hopefully)**_

_**In the darkness there's a sudden loud crack, causing the whole platoon to take cover. Captain James is visibly shaken and turns to look beseechingly at his beloved LLCs, who in turn decide to jump him en masse whilst it's dark and the coast is clear.**_

"Ladies, ladies don't be afraid, I'm here – nothing's going to happen I promise" _**(LLCs look crestfallen after thinking their Christmases had all come at once)**_ "let me out now, you're squashing my helmet and ruining my tufty bits. There that's better. Oh dear, until that moment I was proud of the soldiers you'd become and wanted you to be the last thing I see, but I can now understand you're still a bunch of silly menopausal females who are scared of a bit of bloody thunder" _**(holds hand out to feel the raindrops, but there are none)**_ "Hang on, if that wasn't bloody thunder then what on earth was that giant audible cracking sound? Ah! There you are you two, I'd wondered where you'd got to. You've got to be kidding me, not again Rupert! Why oh why did you allow Mrs Orphan so much access to your machine gun after the last time? Well I've got no sympathy for you, we'll just have to straighten it out and stick it with duct tape until we can make it to the FOB. No, Mrs Orphan, I don't want you holding it whilst I wrap, I think you've done enough damage. We'll have to stop here a while til Rupert-a-Friend is sorted out. Well, yes ok, Mrs Biscuit, milk no sugar thank you. I'm glad you bought that picnic hamper now. No scotch egg for me thanks, I'm watching my weight – don't want chubby chops in my next starring role – doesn't go down well with the ladies, apparently. They prefer the Afghan Chiselled Look not the Reign Prince of Porky Features. Well ok, I will have an egg-washed cream scone then with plenty of strawberry jam. I must say, I'm rather enjoying this eating out lark…oh and so's The Sausage if his pucey pink face is anything to go by. Pass you another one did you say? Well I think all the scones have been eaten but there's plenty of cream buns left..."

_**An hour and a half later…**_

"Right, if everyone's finished their cream tea and is fully satisfied it's time to make a move and get to the FOB. What are these? Ah yes, those Fifty Shades gadgets of yours - have you finished with them, Mrs Biscuit? Shouldn't think you can use them again without a good soak in Mr Muscle and a brillo pad scrub, am I right? What's that? You've sort of already done the first bit, thanks to Scott and Stonebridge, it's just the brillo now? Well, ok, here you go, sorry they're sticking to my hands…erm, has anyone got some antibac gel? I suddenly feel an urgent need to disinfect".

"Can someone help Rupert-a-Friend to walk in a straight line? He's looking a tad forlorn and spent, but those cheekbones are still mighty fine however. I must ask him how he does it under such painful circumstances. No I said circum-STANCES, Tinkerbell; I think Rupert's still just about intact, so to speak, no thanks to Mrs Orphan and her over-zealous handling of his big gun. No, you're not helping Rupert-a-Friend any more, Mrs Orphan, you've done enough damage for one night. You can stay with The Sausage and mop his brow – he looks like he's about to spontaneously combust through over-exertion, his face is that pink. I think maybe he's overdone things dressing up in that jauntily-angled feather hat and rat fur-lined cape of mine like he's some kind of Tudor King, in this heat too, and sharing his last cream horn with Lady Lola has pushed him over the edge exhaustion-wise".

_**The platoon moves out along the ditch to the rendezvous point. Captain James peers through binoculars to capture any signs of movement beyond the trees.**_

"Ahaa I spy movement! Yes – I can just about see Captain Poldark. I must say he doesn't look particularly unhappy. He's grilling his pilchards over an open fire in just his breeches" _**(LLCs fight each other to make a grab for the binoculars to get a better view) **_"and smiling that dazzling knicker-loosening smile you ladies all seem to love and lust over. Yes of course he's still shirtless, Dame Crisp, and I realise you'd like to give him one before he catches cold, but we've got to tread carefully; this could be a trap. Hang on, there's some people with him, who are they? They look a little bit Gallic with those leather shoulder pads and thrusting cutlasses. Looks like there's three of them… no…hang on - there's four of them; an exceptionally handsome black-haired young buck has just picked a sparring match with the deep-thinking, emotionally scarred smouldering one. They certainly knew how to wear a beard in those swashbuckling days. Oh, King Louis XIV has just appeared to break up the jolly japing but Captain Poldark has given him a pasty and he's gone back to brushing his hair. Looks to me like the Musketeers and they appear to have taken Captain Poldark under their leather-clad shouldered wing. Perhaps they'll give him some pointers on how to straighten that shaggy perm" _**(titters to himself)**_ "actually, I could do with some tips myself on unruly curls" _**(strokes neck nape as LLCs sigh longingly)**_

"Ok LLCs let's move out – quietly – we don't want to scare them off again. WAIT!"

_**LLCs run headlong towards Captain Poldark and his Musketeer party, baying, screeching and arguing over who is going to get first dibs of the French Fancies**_

"What's this, Sir? Yes you, Sir! How did you know I was here? I discovered these fine young Frenchmen hidden on the Plain awaiting their third series, so I thought they must be as popular as me rather than Captain James who's still awaiting the nod from the BBC, and I decided to join them and swap ideas on how to look extremely sexy in 18th Century costumes. I must say they certainly know how to wear a leather trouser and buckled boots. As they are without their own mounts I've lent my mare out to each of them on a daily basis. She's just resting over there after a hellish day. She's had four of us taking turns for a canter, but drew the line at Porthos for some reason. Said her saddlebags were too loose or some such nonsense. I checked them thoroughly and apart from smelling fishy due to storing my supply of pilchards, they were perfectly pliable."

"Good morrow, ladies, I trust you are all well?" _**(doffs tricorn hat)**_ "I hope you've not been too worried about me, I've had plenty of company – just look over there" _**(points to a large brick building 200 yards away with "Lending Library" signage)**_

"I've had the time of my life with the DOHPs"

"The Dopes? Who on earth are the Dopes, Captain Poldark?"

"Why, Sir, don't you know, Sir? The DOHPs! Dear Other Halves and Partners. Apparently they belong to the LLCs in this platoon and many others based in and around Salisbury. The ladies like to swap them round and use them for all sorts of purposes, like DIY, cooking, general bedroom acrobatics, that sort of thing. The strange thing is, Sir, they all look like you!"

"What do you mean, they all look like me?"

"Well with the exception of Captain Moojangles who's armed forces in real life so simply keeps his low slung combats and full fatigues on at all times with no need to don the disguise, the DOHPS all carry blow-up plastic surgery suits that look exactly like you, Captain James. Most of them carry extra-large pumps for bigger bulges as and when required, but it's been quite uncanny - I've been surrounded by hundreds of Captain James doppelgangers over the past couple of weeks since the Concert. Every so often they are stamped on the left buttock for a weekly or daily lend-out to any hormonal, menopausal woman in Wiltshire and beyond who wants them. I must say the turnover is phenomenal and the Library is open 7 days a week, 365 days of the year". _**(LLCs frantically rummage in their Bergens for their Library cards and rush to the Booking Out Desk, where frenzied buttock-stamping begins)**_

"Ladies, ladies calm yourselves. What is going on here? Over here now, we are the real thing, not false imitations. You can choose from Captain Poldark and myself, the Strike Back Boys, The Sausage, The Musketeers and Rupert-a-Friend, and yet you are going back to your Dopes – surely not! Come back ladies, come back!

_**The LLCs ignore their fictional Captains and fantasy love-gods and skip away with their DOHPs over Salisbury Plain as the sun rises, taking them back to reality. They are cured…or are they?**_

**THE END**

**Heartfelt thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or remark on this piece of smutty silliness. I've really enjoyed my first venture into fanfiction and your encouragement and kind words have really helped when confidence is running a bit low.**

**Massive thank yous to the MumsNet ladies (and gent) for their humour and craziness, thus allowing me to have the material to write such nonsense.**


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